I should also like a means of distraction from thinking about what I owe to Fitzwilliam Darcy.
August 1812
Darcy lookedout the inn’s window, splattered with raindrops, and felt relieved to be so close to Pemberley. One hundred and forty miles from London, and he was finally back amidst rocks and hills and luxuriant foliage. The cold winds from the north and the east spent their chill on the hills around Matlock Bath, but rarely swept down through the valley. Still, it had to be the rainiest, coldest summer on record.
A fitting stage setting for my mood as of late.
He had passed the rest of the spring and early summer feeling a contrariety of emotions following his rejected proposal. Anger, resentment, and a wish to avoid Elizabeth Bennet for the rest of his life filled his heart for a while. That was soon replaced by a heartache that he avowed to never mention to another human being. Guilt and shame for his role in separating Bingley from Miss Bennet then became his focus, and he did what was necessary to alleviate the suffering he had caused them.
And confessed enough of Wickham’s vicious propensities to help Bingley persuade Mr Bennet and all of the neighbourhood to draw back from that man.
Soon, angry pride had vanished, and the suffering of disappointment had lessened. Solitude and serious reflection had led him to consider Elizabeth’s reproofs, and that naturally kept her close to his mind. His behaviour towards her had been unpardonable; his conduct and manners to everyone, ungentlemanly. It was some time before Darcy was able to be reasonable to the justness of her remarks. So whilst Bingley courted and then married his wife, Darcy had remained in London and learnt a hard lesson about his pride and selfishness.
“The rain has stopped,” Georgiana said, peering through the window next to him, “but through the mist that hangs in the air I cannot see the flowers at the spring that Mr Balfour and his sister mentioned.”
They were in a private room in Saxton’s hotel to have an early dinner with his friends. Darcy sat at the table whilst Georgiana and Mrs Annesley stayed by the window to await the others. The sky, which had been clear when they departed, became clouded this August afternoon as his party travelled north, and then a heavy shower of rain forced them to stop in Matlock Bath rather than press on to Pemberley.
“It is too wet to look at them now; you shall ruin your shoes, my dear Miss Darcy,” Mrs Annesley said.
“If it is dry tomorrow, you and Mrs Lanyon can ride the rest of the way to Pemberley,” Darcy said. His sister enjoyed riding and had little opportunity in town. “I think her brother and Utterson intend to finish our final stage in a post-chaise.”
“I prefer to ride in the carriage—I am out of practice to ride again so soon—but you could ride with her. You and Mrs Lanyon rode together two days ago, before it rained.”
Darcy nodded, but said nothing. Georgiana was not one to forward a conversation, but Mrs Annesley instructed her charge by example. “Mrs Lanyon sits very well, sir. It must be pleasant for a horseman such as yourself to ride with a woman who has such a heart for it.”
“She does sit well,” he agreed.
“Does Mrs Lanyon keep her brother’s house since she is widowed, or does she live with her father in Scotland?”
“She has her own home in Harley Street, not far from where her brother lodges.” His friend Balfour would eventually inherit his father’s estate in Scotland, and until then seemed content to spend the season in London, and the rest of his time gadding from one friend’s home or watering place to another.Balfour was an earnest, affable man and would get on well with Bingley and his new wife when they all met at Pemberley.
Mrs Annesley now gave an emphatic look at Georgiana, who had been watching, but not speaking. Darcy waited whilst his sister thought of something to continue a conversation he had no interest in.
“I understand Mrs Lanyon brought ten thousand pounds to her marriage, and her husband left her well-provided. Did you know him?”
“No, but Colonel Fitzwilliam did. Captain Lanyon died in the year nine. Battle of Corunna,” he answered their silent question.
Georgiana had nothing to add to that, and whilst Darcy wished for the appearance of the friends to end this line of interest, Mrs Annesley began anew. “She has been widowed three years, but she cannot be much older than you, sir. I would not call her handsome, but she has a general prettiness. She is still blooming.”
Darcy only nodded, and Mrs Annesley swiftly took the hint. “Mr Utterson and Mr Balfour have a steady friendship, but I understand from Miss Darcy that Mr Utterson has not seen Pemberley either?”
“No, I have not known him as long, or rather, as well as I have known Balfour. Mrs Lanyon and the new Mrs Bingley have not stayed before either.”
Georgiana came from the window to sit near to him and said softly, “You shall have a large party at Pemberley.”
“No larger than I typically do for some part of the summer. Bingley and his family shall stay only a fortnight before they go on to Scarborough.” Bingley had written that he would bring all of his sisters and Hurst—and, naturally, his bride. “When Bingley’s party joins us, we shall only be eleven altogether.”
Mrs Annesley pressed her hand to Georgiana’s shoulder before she took her seat, and Darcy realised what she already knew. Georgiana was sixteen now, and would be expected to mix more with his friends, butshe was still devastatingly shy.He took his sister’s hand. “Do you fear that I shall force you into company from dawn until candlelight? And then I shall demand you perform every evening and play every game?”
Georgiana blushed, and Darcy thought she might well have believed him capable of such a thing.Elizabeth was right about my selfish disdain of others’ feelings.He ought to have done more to put his sister at ease before now.“Georgiana, I promise that your time shall be your own, and if you spend only half an hour in the evenings with us, I would be very glad of it.”
His sister relaxed her shoulders. “I do not like being forced into constant exertion, is all. I do well enough in a small group with those I am intimately acquainted with, and who I like, of course,” she added, looking down.
Georgiana could refer only to Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Perhaps now that Bingley was married andthatparticular chance for a nearer connexion between their families was gone, Bingley’s sisters might not force themselves upon Georgiana’s notice. “Whenever you wish to be alone, whenever the company is trying, you may mount your horse and be gone!”
Georgiana and Mrs Annesley laughed, and he considered that he ought to show more kindness to those outside of his circle, as well as to those within it. “Mrs Annesley, you have not said whether or not you ride.”
That she was surprised by his question was obvious, but she recovered and said, “Not since I was younger. In my last position, I wasgoverness to four girls and saw them all brought up, but not one of them enjoyed riding. I once rode every fine morning,” she added with a fond smile.
